


Come to me on the curl of the wave

by zetsubooty



Category: Ookiku Furikabutte | Big Windup!
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe - Merpeople, Cuddling & Snuggling, Developing Friendships, Fluff, M/M, Xeno, adventures in sharing language, because there's no reason not to, smut in subsequent chapters B)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-18
Updated: 2017-05-26
Packaged: 2018-10-06 10:50:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,489
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10333001
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zetsubooty/pseuds/zetsubooty
Summary: Ren sings for the heart of the boy he has spied playing on the shore, sings his longing to the stars and the rushing waters of the unfamiliar river he's braved, sings, and hopes, hopes it reaches the ears of his beloved.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> "thought I'd capitalise on the sharkfuckr trend and bring this back"  
> \--things that I tweeted that would certainly make my mother proud

> Sing for a boy whose eyes are earth-dirt-brown, skin tanned warm and speckled by the sun. Dots running over his skin as he runs and plays on grass, field, tarmac, and sometimes, sometimes on shoreline. Sing for him as he laughs and darts about like a fish, but not in the river, no, no, through the air, but so close, so very close to the water’s edge. Sing for him as he grips his strange, prized rod—not like the fisherman’s, no, no, nothing so ill-mannered—grips it and waits for the strange white streak flying through the air, to send it whizzing back again with that crisp, musical sound. But sing for him softly, softly, hiding down in the reeds and the shadows, because he is so  _ very  _ bright, so  _ very  _ lovely, that were he to hear, were he to come close, lay down on his stomach at the water’s edge and peer down into the meandering waters, he would burn this one up from the inside out.
> 
> Sing for a boy with pale hair in a starfish burst on his head and wide wild eyes who gleans oxygen from the deep ocean more easily than from air. Sing for a boy born to ride the surf far out to sea, dive down to discover secret troves and sheltered hollows and make them his own. Prince of unnamed caves with a crown of bright coral and slippery, pliant seaweed for his salt-covered brow, or perhaps twisted from the strange crinkly fabric, the things the seabirds eat that spell death.
> 
> Sing for a boy who watched humans, watched their strange limbs kick and flail about under the water, so graceless compared to his powerful, flexible tail with its shimmering covering of gold and bottle-green scales. Sing for a boy who felt pity for such creatures, the ones who laughed and played as though they did not know how ugly and unfortunate they were, pitied them until his eyes lit upon that one, that shining one, that one that, even though he had those odd splayed limbs, moved through the water like it was his friend. Eschewed the odd colourful coverings most humans used to keep the water at bay, so beautiful as he dove and played and the sea-child’s eyes watched him hungrily even after he escaped into the burning light of the sun.
> 
> Sing for a boy who followed the scent of that one, faint, so faint, but there, all the way to the mouth of a river and up, up, through glimmering grey canyons and under dark shadows that rumble and rattle with the growls of the small, shiny dragons rushing back and forth over them, darting in amongst the large false bodies the humans use to brave the ocean, that hide their flailing limbs and uselessness so they might glide over the water like birds. Up, up the river, even though the silt and the garbage choke his gills and he has to rise up to the surface to gulp in air instead. Sing for a boy who finally, finally found the one he was looking for, playing on the edge of the water and wonderful, so wonderful, worth the strange taste of river fish and the exhaustion of his tiny body fighting upstream so long.
> 
> But the bright human boy does not live next to the water, he goes away when the light dies over the jagged horizon, and the sea-child stays, lonely, and sings, sings for the ocean and the family he left behind there, pours out his longing for them and the boy who doesn’t know he exists and lies dry and safe in a bed, the boy whose hand he would gladly take, pull down into the depths to show him all the beauty that lives there, if that would not destroy the beauty that lives in him. Sing, sea-child, to the unfeeling stars and the moon as it trails its light on the river’s surface, broken, shattered like your cold little heart.

* * *

 

Of course, there comes a time when the boy no longer plays by the riverside. Ren waits and waits as the waters grow colder, finds places along the shore that might smell unpleasant and carry the risk of discovery but warm him enough that he can dive into the cold and hunt. But eventually, he’s driven out to sea, down to seek out warmth and familiar scents. He finds his family again and plays with them, laughing, singing, feasts on the delicious huge ocean fish, lays on his back with nothing to see but the infinite blue of water and sky and no worry that he will be caught, more calm than he’s been in months.

But all the while, his boy is never far from his mind, a ghost pulling him north, strong as any ocean current.

Even when warmth returns to the river, and Ren with it, though he waits and waits, the boy never comes down to the river. And so Ren sings, desperate, raising his soft voice as loud as he can to plead, implore the boy to return. But to no avail, for either the boy does not hear or he does not understand or he does not care, and eventually, Ren’s songs turn to tears, salt like the ocean he has left behind so long ago but so much thicker.

The boy’s scent still hangs in the water like a fine thread, mixed with so many others. Just enough to keep Ren there, hungry for any chance sighting of him. But instead of the boy, the cold returns. Ren flees once more, but like the tide he will return, heart more weary but hope still strong.

Ren’s crying on that day too, curled in the lee of algae-slick boulders with river-weed trailing from his hair, when he hears the peal of the boy’s laughter. That blessed, favourite sound that brings his own mirth bubbling out of him. Ren pulls himself up to peer over the rocks, eyes wider than ever, shining gold-brown and still brimming with tears, to find his one, his precious, favourite, best human, returned to him and as lovely as ever, tossing that white blur back and forth with another boy. Perhaps one who had played with him on the riverbank before, perhaps not; Ren cares little for other humans.

They talk in their strange rhythmic language, joking and yelling and laughing and then not laughing anymore. The other’s rhythm becomes quick, syncopated sharp beats that rise in a crescendo that perplexes and frustrates his boy and hits a final high note of anger and the other turns and flings the white blur far, as far as he can into the river. His boy chases after it, realising halfway that his attempt is futile, but continuing towards the river or perhaps just away from the boy climbing up the bank with sullen tears in his eyes and the confusion he represents.

Ren does not see, though, because Ren is already slipping from the rocks, diving, diving after the white blur that he is  _ certain  _ is so precious to the boy, thrilling with the promise of pleasing him and not for the moment remembering that staying hidden is tantamount. He catches it, for it falls slow through the water and has none of a fish's cleverness. He turns in a sharp arc to point towards the surface, lips curved in a smile that shines as bright as his scales. He’s watched the motion many times, he’s certain he can return the white blur, round and solid like an enormous perfect pearl, marked with red veins that only make it all the more beautiful to him.

But when he bursts through the surface, oh, wonder of wonders, horror of horrors, his boy, his lovely, bright, shining boy of earth and air, sits on a rock with his bare feet dipped in the water. And now he's staring down at Ren with his own eyes popped wide, wide, and mouth, too, open on a startled yelp that makes Ren drop below the surface, cowering against the bottom as though there were any cover there.

His fear chokes him worse than the silt of the riverbed, but his curiousity rises up too, making him peek up through the ripple and rush of the surface to see that his boy is now on hands and knees, peering down into the water with an intent look on his face. His boy is so great, so strong, so wonderful,  _ he’s  _ not afraid of Ren, and it calms his racing heart, makes him push away from the steep bank to drift up, little flicks of his tail to keep his course, until he breaks the surface once more. Gently this time, slowly, pulling himself up the bank until he’s half-out of the water and finally face-to-face with his boy.

They stare at each other for a minute, but he’s too bright, too bright, and Ren looks away, shy even now that he’s chosen to reveal himself. He fusses with the riverweed now trailing down his neck. Which is when he remembers the white blur in his hand, the precious object. Ren holds it out, ducking his head down and away and then peeking up at his boy from the corner of his eye. He sees him recoil slightly in surprise, then lean forward when he recognises it.

“Wow, you got it! For me?” The words might be garbled to his ear, but the gratitude is clear, and he turns back to his boy with a tentative smile that widens when he sees the boy’s grin. But, much to his surprise, the boy sets the precious object to the side, reaching down to mess with the bottom of his limb-coverings. He stops, shrugs, and stands to shimmy out of them entirely. He has shorter ones on underneath, and Ren is disappointed, wants to see him fully bare in the water again. His boy is different now, a little longer and broader than he remembers, and Ren would like to see if he still moves like music.

But has no time to pursue the thought because his boy, his beautiful boy, is wading into the water beside him.

Arms out to keep his balance, his boy examines his body with frank interest.

Ren flushes, twisting to look at him, tail coiling and uncoiling itself with his nervousness. His boy watches it, open-mouthed, then takes another step.

“Whoa, can I touch it?” Unsteady, he curls his fingers on Ren’s shoulder, shocking with their heat and the more intimate pulse down his lateral line. Ren flinches, can only gasp and stare, no way to understand the boy’s intent until he leans down, reaching with his other hand. His boy, his wonderful boy, wants to put both of his warm earth hands on him, to feel his body, feel his strong tail move and shift under his palms? He brings it close, arching it out of the water so his boy can run his hand over it with wonder on his face and strange sounds on his lips, “Cool!” and “It’s beautiful…”

If he could understand he would tell his boy that  _ he  _ was the beautiful one. The words pour from his lips anyway in the song that his people communicate with, and in the fluttering, halting song that is all his own, he confesses to the boy all his admiration. And he knows full well that the boy can’t understand  _ him  _ either, but he stands transfixed just the same, hand never leaving his shoulder and close, so close that Ren can’t resist reaching out to fit his hands cool against the warmth of his cheeks, so warm it seems to burn through his skin, through to the very core of him, and his song reaches its own crescendo of adulation and the skin under his hands flushes warmer than he ever thought possible. His boy is breathless, wide-eyed and fingers curling tighter on his shoulder and leaving Ren in an agony of delight he does not understand, his boy leaning close, so very close as Ren sings this, too.

And then a traitorous buzzing comes from the pile his boy left on the shore, a sound that seizes his attention even through Ren’s song, makes him jump and almost lose his footing on the slick riverbed. He splashes to shore, rifling through his limb coverings and pulling out another precious object, a small dark shining block that he thumbs impatiently and speaks to briefly. Ren pushes himself closer, walking on his hands up the muddy bank, stopping suddenly when his boy crouches down with a smile.

“I gotta go home, but…I’ll be back, okay? You live here, right?” The boy watches him steadily, and Ren stares back, eyebrows pulling into a frown, unsure what he expects. “I guess you don’t speak Japanese, do ya.” His boy sighs, frowning, then gestures toward the land and back towards him, speaking animatedly. Ren doesn’t understand exactly what he means, but he understands his smile and the earnestness with which he tries to communicate, and he believes, he believes as he has all those cold months, even as his boy runs away up the bank, that he will return, and hope is enough.

* * *

 

His boy comes on the wings of night, comes with a clatter and a rush on his strange small steed that he leaves, drops to the grass all uncaring, to run the last few meters to the place they’ve found where it’s flat enough for him to walk out safely, deep enough for Ren to come close, a sheltered place where his boy can strip down in the fading early summer heat and slip into the water with him to splash about and talk in their halting way.

His boy points to himself and says  _ Yuu _ , and then points to Ren and imitates the trilling syllable that is  _ him.  _ And laughs, that sound that is so much more beautiful than any word in either language, bathing Ren in sunlight even with the sun long gone. And Ren blushes and ducks his head and smiles at his boy, repeats the words Yuu says, slowly, slowly, pointing at things around them or at images in a strange flappy square that Ren doesn’t  _ entirely  _ understand in terms of real objects, but does his best.

He has trouble, gets hung up on syllables and sounds that are unfamiliar, can’t stop himself from singing the words, but it just delights Yuu, and when Ren gets embarrassed and frustrated, he puts the book away, slings an arm around his shoulders, whispers soothingly to him, things that might not be words at all but what does it matter because his boy does not mind if he can’t speak his tongue yet.

And sometimes, sometimes, Ren musters the courage to tentatively coil the tip of his tail around Yuu’s leg the way  _ he’s _ always been hugged, the way he knows to show  _ I love you _ . Yuu laughs at  _ that  _ , too, which is a little confusing so Ren just smiles shyly back at him. So Yuu tries to explain about  _ it tickles  _ , using words that he understands less and less until Yuu just shrugs and runs his fingers light and fast over Ren’s sides, over where his gill slits lie shut flat, and it feels  _ good  _ and  _ too much  _ and makes him tense and arch, falling back in the water, and Yuu jerks back with a yell until he remembers that he’s fine like that, and Ren comes up singing out his own laughter.

“Now do it to me!” Yuu tells him, and he understands most of the words and all of the way he’s gesturing to his own sides with a wide grin. Ren brings his hands up, imitating the movements, gently and then with more enthusiasm when Yuu cries out encouragement. He squirms and kicks and laughs and Ren finds it fascinating but not quite as fascinating as the way Yuu’s skin feels, smoother than he had thought from the feel of his hands, soft and warm all over, and no gill slits at all (he even looks to check for sure, lifting Yuu’s arm and ducking to peer at his ribs and running his fingers over them). Yuu laughs, squirming again, when he touches the hairs where his arm meets his body, then, after thinking a moment, lifts his feet out of the water, wiggling them at Ren.

“You’re curious, huh? See?”

Ren curls his hands around one proffered ankle, eyes wide on Yuu’s face, murmuring, “C-c-can?” barely waiting for his nod before he strokes his fingers down to the bumps at the end. They wiggle, and Ren jumps, flinching back with huge eyes.

“Toes! They’re real ticklish, too,” Yuu laughs.

Ren imitates him as best he can, touching the little bumps again with a studious frown. He counts them carefully, then frowns. He pinches at Yuu's fingers, pulling a hand down beside his feet. With a sudden smile, he tries, “To-to-toessss!”

Yuu giggles, but then shakes his head. “Fingers. But you’re right, they’re kind of the same thing!”

“Ssssa! Ame,” Ren repeats back, excited, then returns to Yuu's foot, eager to make more discoveries. He learns the words  _ ball  _ (which confuses him greatly) and  _ arch  _ and  _ heel  _ and  _ ankle  _ and even  _ tendon  _ and  _ joint  _ , and then he’s running his hands up the firm flesh of Yuu’s _ calf  _ and  _ shin _ , fascinated when he notices the tiny dusting of hairs here too. He lifts Yuu's leg so he can peer close in the light of distant streetlamps and brush his fingers over them. Then up to  _ knee  _ and  _ thigh  _ and then Yuu shifts, drawing his legs back down so he can kneel in the water, turning away from him, and Ren learns  _ hip  _ , and then, with a giggle he doesn’t understand from Yuu,  _ butt _ , then  _ back, spine, ribs, shoulders, arms, forearms. _ All yield to his fingers and his curiousity,  _ nape, neck, head, ears, hair, face, eyes, nose, mouth, chin, forehead, cheeks,  _ and back to brush his fingers over  _ mouth  _ again, pretending he’d forgotten the name of the petal-soft curve. And then down, down, back down again, down  _ throat  _ and  _ collarbone  _ and  _ still shoulders  _ and  _ chest  _ and Yuu calling his attention to the darker, larger almost-circles on his skin,  _ nipples. _ So Ren points and the spots on his nose and asks if they’re the same? Which makes Yuu laugh again, and then give him the right word,  _ freckles  _ , and Ren smiles and touches the  _ freckles  _ in the dips of his  _ collarbone  _ and all down his arms and then down further, further, down  _ waist  _ and  _ stomach  _ and  _ belly button  _ and Yuu pushes him back to investigate if  _ he  _ has a belly button (he does), and then lets Ren trail his hands down to the strangeness that nestles between his thighs, and when he curls his hand under it, leaning down so he can see, Yuu squawks and falls back in the water.

Ren squeaks, thrashing away into deeper water, ducking down so he’s just barely peeking above the surface. But Yuu’s not upset, is laughing, pushing himself back up, to babble incomprehensibly, “Didn’t think you’d actually  _ grab _ it! ...That’s kind of…a  _ personal  _ place to touch someone, y’know,” he finally says, which makes little more sense to Ren. “Don’t you have a dick? I’m  _ pretty  _ sure you’re a boy…” Yuu wades over to him, tugging on his shoulders until he rolls, scales glinting as he lets himself float. Ren peers up at him, mystified, hands creeping up Yuu’s chest as he peers down the length of his body. “Just…fins, looks like. Huh.” Ren strokes his skin, murmuring the new words to himself, smiling, until Yuu takes his hands, singing something, finally, he can understand, “Your words now,” and places them on his own body.

Ren flushes, still pleased that Yuu would want to learn to speak his language too. He points to his face, his arms, his torso, singing the words for Yuu and then, an answering rhythm, the new terms he’s learned. Other words Yuu didn't have as well, gill slits, his scattered scale epaulets, and the stretch of translucent skin between fingers that lets him bank and turn so easily. The indigo whiskers trailing back from his temples--not so impressive as he hopes they'll be once he's grown, but Yuu doesn't seem to know.

And always, always, Yuu’s hands following after with their roughness catching delicious on his skin and Ren wondering if it had felt good like this when  _ he’d  _ touched Yuu or if only his boy knows how to make another’s skin feel shivery-good. He reaches his stomach where scattered scales dot his skin and then merge into the firm mass of his tail, naming that intermediate zone (and telling Yuu sternly  _ it tickles _ , which is a mistake because then he immediately does). On, down, Yuu running his hands over the curve into his powerful fins as Ren names them. All the way down, lifting his whiplike tail from the water to display it proudly, point to the ridges of his keels and the sharp ridge running up the back.

He smiles at Yuu, trying to think of the word for  _ done _ .

And then Yuu reaches for his claspers. "What're  _ these? _ "

Ren thinks maybe he understands his reaction to having the still-unnamed piece of anatomy touched, twitches his hips back under the water, eyes wide, babbling out a stumbling imitation of what Yuu had said in the hopes that one of the words will be right.

Yuu stares back at him, then leans down to tug him up again, hands placed solidly on his pelvic fins. Ren lets himself be moved, though his hands creep up to cover his face.

“Wait, you got  _ two?  _ How’s  _ that  _ fair? Huh,” Yuu’s hands slide up closer, though he doesn’t touch again, “they just look like weird fins to me…” Ren shivers, intensely aware of the closeness of Yuu’s hands, the feel of them as they brushed along the length of his left one, suddenly aching with the desire to feel them again. “Oh, but they’re getting all… Haha, you got a fish boner!”

Ren rolls, hiding his face in the water; when Yuu laughs like he does now, it’s usually because he’s done something stupid.

Hands tug at his upper arms until he finally peeks uncertainly over his shoulder at Yuu, who crouches down so their faces are close. “It’s fine, it happens! Kind of happened to me too, when ya touched me…” Yuu’s tone is comforting, reassuring, and Ren smiles back at him, understanding that everything’s okay, if nothing else. And then Yuu’s hands slide off his arms to his back, and he sings, “What this?” to him, and Ren remembers the game, relieved.

They move back to shallower water so they can sit, him with his tail curled to balance as he lifts out of the water and names the words for his back and the spiny ridge of fin that rises from its curve.

But Ren cries out when Yuu presses his fingers along the twin lines of green-gold iridescence that start at his collarbone and curve over his shoulders and down his back, a sound of both pain and delight, flipping on his back to put them out of reach. And then realising that it makes his pelvic fins visible. He rolls in the shallow water, thrashing, stirring up the silty bottom around them in an agony of embarrassment.

“Ren! I’m sorry! Did I hurt you?” Yuu’s words finally penetrate, or at least the frantic worry of his tone. As does the fact that he’s not trying to touch him again. Ren stills, face-down in the water again, feeling the particles of mud brush past his skin as they slowly settle. He pushes himself up, eyes searching for Yuu’s face, finding him frowning with worry but then lighting up when their eyes meet. He repeats his last phrase, eyebrows pulling together again for a brief moment, and Ren understands it for question, if nothing else.

He gestures to the lines, and uses the words he has that are closest to expressing the sensation. “It t-t-tick-tickles! Too m-mu-mu-much?" Yuu seems to understand (enough that,  _ this  _ time, he doesn’t immediately touch the indicated area).

He still seems interested in them, but it quickly becomes evident that they don’t have the vocabulary to talk about function yet. Yuu finally shrugs, and tells Ren, “They’re beautiful!” making him blush, before moving on to other subjects.

Always, the time comes when the night chill is too much for Yuu and he rises from the water to remove its clinging rivulet fingers with a length of cloth from bodyparts that Ren can now whisper the names of adoringly under his breath. Yuu slips his clothes back on and waves goodbye as he rushes off into the darkness.

Ren spends his nights tangled in boat moorings where the water tastes strange and rank but he can rest without being carried downstream. He wakes in the early mornings to gorge himself on lethargic fish and play in the currents. He swims up and down the river, searching for places where he can hide and listen to people talking, find words like the sea-borne treasures he once hoarded to bring back to Yuu when he comes to visit.

Not everyday, but often (though never often enough), Yuu comes down to the river, sometimes only for a few minutes, sometimes for an hour or more, sometimes even ignoring the buzz of the silver box Ren now knows is called  _ phone _ . On the nights where he doesn't come, Ren spends the time repeating the words he knows to himself over and over, forming sentences that he's  _ pretty  _ sure make sense.

He plays, too, with the ball Yuu brought for him, tossing it up gently and catching it, or throwing it far down the river and racing to catch it before it hits the bottom. He keeps it safe in a crevice where the river cuts under the shore along with a few other things he’s decided to call his own: bits of glass and a colourful rope and a funny circle full of rays.

Yuu tells him about the game he plays and the boys he's been playing it with in the years since he left the riverside. Tells him of the powerful, beautiful woman who leads them, and the sweet, clever girl who supports them, and the kouhai, a concept that escapes Ren a little. It amazes Ren that there could be so many people in the world, but he supposes it’s only natural, imagines they must all flock to his bright boy, they must come by the dozens, by the hundreds, to watch him play his game.

Eventually, he reveals to Yuu how he had watched him play before, too shy still and without words like  _ longing  _ and  _ adored  _ but at least with words like  _ cool  _ that make Yuu grin wide, wide, and look at him wonderingly when Ren’s not looking. They haven’t learned words for _ cause  _ quite yet, so Ren is saved from revealing that Yuu is the  _ reason  _ he is here, though it doesn’t stop him from inferring something like that as he listens to him talk about his mother and father, his cousins, his friends who he left behind in the ocean’s clear depths.

Yuu’s body continues to fascinate him, though, especially now that he has words like  _ please  _ and  _ more  _ and  _ touch  _ , and then eventually the word  _ cuddle  _ . He loves to float with his head in Yuu's lap, arms wound around his or up behind his back to grasp his shoulders, watching him admiringly as they talk and learning the word  _ upside-down.  _ Lies curled in the circle of his folded legs, tracing the different shapes his knees make when they’re bent like this, or facing in and sliding his hands up Yuu’s stomach to the arc of his ribs, head pillowed on his thighs, and always, always hyper-conscious of that mysterious sensitive part that sometimes becomes stiff when he shifts and wriggles in Yuu’s lap, sometimes leaves Yuu blushing and sometimes steadfastly continuing to talk and others, suggesting they change position or suddenly retreating to the safety of shore and home. And if sometimes, he shifts and wriggles like that on purpose, if sometimes, Yuu ‘forgets’ and brushes his hands shivery-gentle over his lateral lines, leaving him biting his lip to hold back a gasp, neither of them finds the words to say.

They swim, too, out into the middle of the river. Yuu is strong enough to swim with the current, and Ren loves to dip beneath the surface and watch the alien way he moves, kicking his legs and thrashing his arms in a way that seems like it shouldn’t get him anywhere but does. But his favourite is the way back, when Yuu has to cling tight to his shoulders as he swims (that new term,  _ upside-down  _ , so Yuu’s head stays above the surface), knees clamped tight against his sides. It makes it hard to breathe, but it’s only for a little while because he is _ fast  _ and  _ amazing  _ and makes Yuu laugh and cry out with delight as he feels the water rush past them.

But sometimes they’re out too far, and Ren slows to a leisurely speed, slow enough for Yuu to sit up and let him catch his breath, though how he could breathe with his beautiful boy so close, lit by the glimmer of stars and distant streetlamps and shining with water and exhilaration, leaning with his hands on Ren's chest to watch the working of his gills, and close, so close, and so warm, and Ren always pretends he’s not so quick to recover so that he can enjoy it a little bit longer.

And on the best days, even once they get back to shore, Yuu stays there, curling his arms around Ren’s shoulders and resting his head on his chest as he flicks his tail lazily to keep them in place, both of them half-asleep on him as Ren idly traces his back.

He sings to him, then, sings things he half-hopes Yuu doesn’t understand, half-hopes he does, things that, regardless, leave him blushing and shy when Yuu finally looks up, blinking at him sleepily and then nuzzling his chest and lying back down, twining his fingers in his hair and murmuring his own incomprehensible poetry into the stillness of the night.

  
  



	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cmon man did u think id miss updating this during mermay

Cold steals over the Arakawa river slowly, coming first at night and slowly spreading its chill fingers into the day, leaving the grass at the river’s edge alone but tracing the green farther inland with white until the morning sun kisses it away.

There comes a night when Tajima won’t get in the water with him, and Ren twists his tail in unhappy knots, biting his lip, but understands. The river is too cold for him as well, urging him downstream and out into the ocean to follow the birds to where summer reigns eternal. But he doesn’t mention such things to Tajima, doesn’t give in to the ache in his heart for home and surf, because his boy comes to see him more now. Earlier too, bundled up with new words to teach him like  _ hoodie, cap, gloves, jacket _ .

If his boy can’t come into the river, Ren will learn to pull himself on shore. Far clumsier than Tajima is in the water, embarrassingly graceless, but he’s determined. They have to find a new place to meet, not too muddy, not too rocky, somewhere smooth pebbles give way to slippery grass. Somewhere with shelter enough from the streets above to hide the two of them as Ren twines his tail around Tajima’s legs and listens to him talk about  _ off-season _ and classmates, and marvel at how much he understands and how much he still does not.

It’s colder, though, out where the wind dries his skin, steals the heat even from his boy’s exposed skin. Leaves Ren sneaking his fingers in under  _ jacket, shirt _ to the warmth of his stomach, making Tajima squawk a protest. But he lets him stay like that, though he looks down at Ren thoughtfully.

Not the next time he comes, but the time after that, Tajima brings him  _ gift, sweater, hoodie _ , pulls the pale lump of fabric out of his bag and holds it out to him with a grin. He’s watched Tajima do the motion many times, but still needs his help to pull the feather-soft material down over his body, to hold the sleeves pinched between his fingers as he shrugs into the hoodie, to figure out the way to work the shiny metal machine that eats its way up the front to leave him snug and warm and smiling and singing his thanks as Tajima pulls the hood up over his wet hair.

“Probly should’ve toweled you off, first, but…better?” Ren nods, breathless, then flings himself forward to bury his face on Tajima’s shoulder, nuzzling into the curve of his neck.

“Y-yeah, th-tha…nk you,” he murmurs, stomach fluttering as Tajima falls back against the bank with his arms around him. They talk softly for a while, and then Ren drowses, lulled by warmth and the beat of Tajima’s pulse he can feel where his lips press lightly against his neck.

His boy is clever, so clever, and brings him another gift, too, a  _ bag _ that he can close tight to keep the water out, preserve the magical warmth-bringing powers of the clothing. Ren plays with it, fascinated, feeling the  _ click-click _ of its closure as he pinches it, learning how to press all the air out so it (probably) won’t float away.

“Guess that still won’t help you when you’re swimming, though, will it?” Tajima frowns, and Ren worries he’s done something wrong for a moment, snatching his hands back from the small bundle. But then Tajima rolls his eyes and picks it up, pressing it into his hands. “I’m just worried about you, I’m not mad, dummy.”

Tajima gives him that look that means  _ worried _ a lot, especially when he catches him shivering, when Ren still wedges icy hands up under his shirts or even into his hair, just barely long enough to tangle his chill fingers in. Ren wants to tell him he doesn’t mind, but the truth is, he’s long past when he should have retreated. He moves slow in the water now, sometimes too slow to catch fish.  He doesn’t want to admit it, though, doesn’t want Tajima to stop liking him because he’s no longer admirable, no longer strong.

He tries to arrive at their meeting place before Tajima so he can already have the hoodie on, hiding the way his ribs show through his skin.

 

He hears Tajima’s voice first, and pulls himself higher onto the shore with as much energy as he can muster. Then freezes when he hears a lower voice in answer. And another, and another. But Tajima’s is still relaxed, they’re talking casually about baseball, so it seems like nothing’s wrong. And yet something is terribly, terribly wrong, other humans are intruding on their small world, and Ren’s every fibre screams back, back, into the water, hide, flee before you’re discovered here on the shore with your body revealed for all to see. But he can’t move, can only lie there, fingers clenching on the grass, heart hammering inside his ribs, as the voices come inexorably closer. Perhaps, if he stays perfectly still, they’ll think he’s a  _ statue _ , a word he learned two weeks ago from one of Tajima’s  _ books _ . Yes, maybe, maybe, if he can just stop his chest from heaving, too fast, too fast, and keep—

“Yuu. Yuu, what the  _ hell _ is  _ that _ .”

An incoherent cry from another.

“What’s wrong with it? Is it sick?”

That one at least sounds nice. Ren’s tail twitches, coils and uncoils, betraying him as something  _ alive _ , if nothing else.

“Nothing wrong with him, he’s just shy! Right, Ren?” His boy, his beautiful, bright boy who he never thought would betray him like this, crouches in front of him with a smile.

“…And also why the hell is he wearing a hoodie?” Another boy crouches down, this one with large, round eyes and a serious expression that scares Ren. He’s too terrified to even  _ think _ of looking up at the others, and he stares at the serious boy, grabbing desperately at Tajima and then burying his face against his knees, choking out a frantic sob. “Did you  _ tell _ him we were coming tonight?”

“No, I wanted it to be a surprise! I didn’t think it would be that big a deal.” Tajima pushes the hood back to pet his hair, soothing and familiar, even if it exposes the nape of his neck to the icy wind. “He wasn’t scared like this when  _ we _ first met… Well, actually, he  _ was _ , but he got past it pretty quick! …Mostly…” Tajima’s body lurches to the side. “Hey! Don’t push me!”

“You deserve it!”

“Kind of a dick move.” The first voice, and moving closer.

“Hey, Abe, get away from him. You’re gonna scare him worse!” Big-eyed boy, again.

“What?  _ Why? _ ”

“Dude, have you ever looked in a mirror?” A new voice, higher above him.

“The hell is  _ that _ supposed to mean?!” Judging by the sound of him, Ren’s more than happy to take Big Eyes’ word that he’s too scary to look at. But then a hand touches his arm, warm through the fabric just like Tajima’s. “Hey. We’re not here to hurt you or anything, so calm down already!”

“Why  _ are _ we here, anyway?” The nice-sounding voice; this one, at least, he feels like maybe he could look at. Maybe.

“I think he’s supposed to migrate during the winter, but he didn’t. And now he’s freezing and starving. Look!” Tajima hikes up his clothes, exposing his back.

Ren cries out and waves his arms frantically, trying to pull the hoodie back down, then shoves his face harder against Tajima’s knees, whimpering, fingers clenching on his jacket. Tajima lets the hoodie fall, pulling the clothes back into place and rubbing his back soothingly. 

“Anyway, I got neighbours that’re in Hawai’i an’ I said I’d look after their house ‘til they get back. Which means we can stick Ren in their bath!”

There’s a lengthy silence. Then, Nice Voice: “Will he  _ fit?? _ ”

“Nevermind that, how’re you gonna  _ feed _ him? What does he even eat? Fish? You eat fish, Ren?” Big Eyes puts his hand on Ren’s arm, too, shaking him lightly. Ren lifts his head enough to nod, side-eyeing Big Eyes and avoiding even a  _ chance _ of looking at Scary. “Okay. Where you gonna get enough fish to feed a merboy? We’re not carrying him back and forth every time he has to eat.”

“Canned tuna?”

There’s a lengthy silence, and then Tajima’s head jerks like he’s been struck, and Tall yells at him, “You can’t feed him canned tuna for an entire winter!”

“Says who?! Like ya even know what he eats!”

“Yeah, I  _ am _ pretty sure you’ll give him mercury poisoning.”

Tajima wraps his arms around his shoulders; Ren wriggles closer, frightened by the loud voices. “I dunno, I’ll feed him other stuff, too. I’ll figure it out! I’ve gotta, anyway,” he says, leaning his chin on Ren’s head, sounding sulky, “he’s gonna die if he stays out here.” 

Another silence, and then Scary sighs. “Why didn’t you tell us about him before?”

“How was he supposed to tell us he had a merboy stashed away? Anyways, better get on with it…” Big Eyes sounds like he’s standing, and then makes a strange flappy noise; Ren looks up, curious, to see him holding something like Tajima’s towel but bigger. “I’m assuming that’s what the blanket’s for? Where’s your uncle live, any—”

The object connects to an image Tajima had shown him and to one of the words Big Eyes had said. Ren points at it excitedly, yelling, “Blanket!” and looking up at Tajima with wide eyes.

“Wow, he talks!” Ren catches sight of Nice Voice off to Tajima’s right: he  _ looks _ nice, too, with fluffy hair that reminds him of his own, and a goofy smile that broadens when Ren smiles back at him tentatively.

Beside him is Tall, who wears a toque and has thick eyebrows and frowns. But when he notices Ren peeking at him around Tajima’s head, he smiles at him awkwardly and crouches down. He opens his mouth, shuts it, then dips his head quickly. “I’m Hanai. Nice to meetcha, Ren.”

Ren stares at him for a moment, then points at him. “Ha-Hanai is! Cool! H-h-hits! House run!” Hanai blinks back at him, then covers his face, blushing and sputtering out something incoherent.

“ _ Home _ runs, Ren,” Tajima corrects, squeezing him closer, pressing his cheek against Ren’s hair; he repeats it to himself, trying to memorise.

“You  _ told _ him stuff about us?” Hanai sounds oddly indignant.

“Yeah, of course! I spend like  _ all _ my time with you guys, so no shit I’m gonna talk about you!” Tajima points at Big Eyes. “That’s Izumi.”

“Izumi!” He wants to show off what he’s learned, so he continues, “C-c-class, and m-mean!” Izumi looks…less pleased than Hanai did; Ren hides his face on Tajima’s shoulder. “Swimsuits…?”

“We’ve been in the same class for two and a half years and  _ that’s _ all you’ve told him about me?”

“No! Ren, tell him other stuff! Quick! More!”

Tajima pushes him back up, pointing him at Izumi, who’s giving him a bland look. “Ah! Ah… Izumi…le-le-lead-on hit? And! Nice, too!”

“Nice and mean. Huh.” Izumi narrows his eyes at Tajima, but then makes a more neutral face when he looks back at Ren. “Just so you know, I’m not mad at  _ you _ . You’re just parrotting what  _ he _ told you, right? Wait, can he understand all that, you think?”

Ren nods, catching the word “understand,” and not wanting Izumi to think he’s not listening, not trying his best, so he responds, "P-par-parrots are...bird!"

"Amazing," Scary says dryly, and Ren finally turns to him, curiousity getting the better of him. He looks...perfectly normal, if not  _ particularly _ friendly, with short black hair (longer than Tajima's) sticking up in unruly spikes. Ren finds he likes him, even if he still feels some trepidation. A lot of trepidation. Scary gestures at himself with his thumb. "I'm Abe, by the way. Don't," he holds up a hand, " _ please  _ don't tell me what Tajima's said about me."

"W-won't tell!" Ren says, nodding, then plucks at the front of Tajima's jacket nervously. "Secret?"

Abe looks at him with narrowed eyes for a moment, then nods, smiling slightly. "Yeah, sure. A secret."

" _ I'm _ a secret!" he pronounces, turning back to Tajima for confirmation. The boys laugh, and he doesn't understand, but he likes the sound, the cascading percussion of it. Each one has its own different music, and it’s a bit hard to understand them, but he’s beginning to like the sound of their voices just the same. Ren pulls Tajima’s jacket against his face, his smile turning into laughter of his own.

"Is that him... _ laughing _ ?" Hanai tips his head to the side curiously.

"Yeah! Hey, say something in  _ your _ language, Ren!"

Ren turns to the only boy who hasn't introduced himself yet, and sings out a request for his name. Laughing at the other boys' amazed exclamations, Tajima translates, and the boy points to himself.

"I'm Hamada!"

"Ha-ma-da!" Ren crows out, tail coiling happily, then asks, "Is Hamada secret, too?"

Hamada rubs the back of his neck with a sigh. "I'm kind of scared to know what he said, actually..."

"Then! What I s-say?"

"What  _ should _ you say, you mean…?"

Ren shakes his head emphatically, tugging on Tajima's jacket. "N-no! No… I  _ think _ …  _ Me _ , I think Hamada…good person!"

The boys all laugh at him again, except for Hamada, who blushes and grins, looking away. Ren blushes, too, but it feels good. Not like it does when he does things that make  _ his _ boy blush, but still good.

"What, you mean you don't think the rest of us are good people?" Izumi asks, still laughing.

Ren shakes his head again, eyes wide. "All! All are!"

"Now you're just saying that!" Hanai reaches out to ruffle his hair roughly, and Ren laughs again, releasing Tajima to touch a hand to his head.

“A-almost, it tickles!”

“Huh? Yeah, I guess that’s kind of what it’s like…”

“How would you even know, Hanai?”

Hanai swats at Tajima. “I wasn’t  _ born _ bald! Well, I guess I sorta was…” He looks back at Ren, then asks, “Hey, wanna see?” reaching up and tugging off his toque. Ren squeaks, eyes widening.

Abe huffs out a laugh. “Does  _ everything _ scare you?”

“Doesn’t!” Ren chirps out indignantly at the same time that Tajima answers, “Yep!” Ren scowls at him briefly before turning back to Hanai, fascinated. “Can? T-t-touch?”

Hanai dips his head, smiling. “Go for it.” Ren reaches out a hand, hesitating with it over Hanai’s head as though expecting to still feel hair even though he can’t see it. When he touches the kitten-fuzz of his stubble, he giggles, a breathier, lighter sound, ducking to press his face against Tajima’s shoulder, other arm snaking up around his neck. He pets Hanai’s head until the other boy pulls away, blushing as he pulls his toque back on. Ren hangs off of Tajima, tail curling excitedly, dropping his hand to feel the softness of the hoodie.

“S-s-soft? Like!” He shakes the fabric at Tajima. “But…”

“Yeah, it’s fuzzy! At least…” Tajima reaches over and jams his fingers under Hanai’s toque; he jerks back with an indignant cry. “Hey! You let  _ him _ …”

“Just…warn me first, why don’t you?!”

“If I did, you’d tell me not to!”

“Yeah, well…” Hanai seems somewhat at a loss for words in the face of Ren’s boy’s impeccable logic.

Izumi sighs deeply. “Anyway, shouldn’t we get moving, if we’re gonna do this? I’m tired, and I don’t wanna be out here all night, thanks.”

“Yeah! I figure we wind his tail up in the blanket, and then we can kind of carry him slung between two people, switch off…” Tajima turns back towards Ren, cupping his face between his hands. “You understand what’s happening, right?” Ren frowns, suddenly unsure, and shakes his head. “We’re going to a warm place together, okay? It’ll be different from the river, and you might get scared, but you can’t stay here like this!” Ren’s worried frown deepens, but he nods; Tajima leans their foreheads together. “It’ll be okay. Can you trust me? Wait, you don’t know that word yet… Well, I guess you’ll learn it now!” He searches out Ren’s hand, holding it up and manipulating it so his pinkie is sticking out, then curls his own around it, urging Ren to do the same. “I promise you’ll be safe. There! Now you have to trust me. That means,” he pauses, searching for words, “you have to believe that I’m telling the truth, okay?”

Ren nods a bit more certainly now, smiling down at their linked fingers. “Promsis! T-trust!” Tajima laughs, gives their joined hands one last firm shake, and then pulls away, disentangling Ren’s arm and turning him so he’s on his back.

They maneuver him so the blanket is under him. First, they try getting him to fold his tail up, but he’s not quite flexible enough in the right way for that to be helpful, so instead, Tajima directs him, with gestures and patchy phrasing, to coil his tail around like he was holding onto a mooring rope but with nothing there. This makes it possible to completely cover his tail. Quite a bit of his fishiness is still visible, but the boys decide they’ll depend on darkness to conceal those.

Which it does: Tajima takes them running through a sequence of back-alleys, empty lots, quiet backstreets, and through a few gardens, until they finally arrive at a modestly-sized older home. It has a neat garden—a little dull at this time of year, but Ren admires what he can see of the bushes and trees and the mysterious fabric covering sections of ground. Tajima lets them into the front door, and Ren is set down briefly so that everyone can take off their shoes, a process he watches with interest.

He’s fascinated by Hanai’s large feet, reaching out to touch them gently and making him yelp and jerk away. Ren flails back, tail twisting and tangling in the blanket. It’s not like old rope or seaweed, it’s dry and constricts around him painfully. He panics, thrashing around and hiccuping out frantic gasps, knocking Hamada over and nearly upsetting a small hall table with a phone and a pretty vase on it.

“Fuck!”

“The hell did you  _ do _ , Hanai?”

“I didn’t…! He just…”

“Ow!”

“Would you  _ calm  _ the fuck _ down _ .” Abe’s voice booms in the small space, leaving Ren tying his tail in knots, arms over his head, trying to squash down as small as he can in the corner.

“ _ God _ , Takaya, don’t yell at him! You’re not helping!” Ren flinches each time Izumi’s voice peaks.

He feels embarrassed; he was fine the whole time they were carrying him here, was fine until a few seconds ago, but now, he just wants back in his river. Even if it’s cold, even if it’s dirty and lonely and scary and he can’t catch fish, he wants to go back, go where he can breathe properly, where he’s wet and can  _ move _ and can  _ breathe he can’t breathe he can’t _ —

Someone wraps the blanket around him from behind, warm arms clamping around his body, and then another pair, smaller, familiar, shift the first arms so they’re not so tight and not covering his gill slits. They tuck the blanket around his front then enfold him.

“Would you guys help already?”

Abe’s voice is still loud, especially when it’s almost directly in his ear, but he doesn’t sound quite so scary this time, and besides, the way he and Tajima hold the blanket close around him is almost,  _ almost _ like feeling the water push against his skin, comforting, steadying, especially as Tajima presses his face close, speaking softly to him, nose shoved against his cheek and lips brushing his skin with each (mostly meaningless) word, and that, that captures his attention, even as the other boys finally get ahold of his tail, weighing him down, calming its now slower movement until he is finally completely still, panting against Tajima’s cheek, arms cramped against his chest.

And  _ then _ he’s able to feel  _ truly _ embarrassed, twisting until he can hide his face in Abe’s shoulder with a pained whine, hands curling into fists against his chest. He doesn’t know how to say he’s sorry, or at least not for something like  _ this _ , though he does stammer out the words anyway, over and over, quietly, in Japanese and then in his mother tongue.

Hanai’s the first one to speak. “No one’s mad at you, Ren.” He pats his tail, finally sitting up off it. “You got scared. It happens. Er, wait, should  _ I _ apologise…?” Ren finally raises his head, shaking it vigorously, nearly smacking into Tajima. Abe releases him, hands steadying on his back as Ren sits up, shrugging his way out of the blanket and reaching for Tajima automatically. He winds his arms around his neck, face shoved against his chest, tail pulling out of Izumi’s grasp to curl around him.

“Whoa,  _ geez _ , Ren, that’s…” The other boys laugh, and Tajima sounds strangely embarrassed, as though he doesn’t do just these same things all the time when they’re alone. It occurs to him suddenly that perhaps the rules are different when there are other people around, and so he loosens his hold on Tajima, tail uncurling and then snaking around the other three boys, not quite long enough until he squeezes, urging them closer.

“Wow, he’s, uh, sure affectionate!” Hamada scooches in closer, patting his tail; Ren smiles at him shyly.

“Yeah, he  _ really _ likes getting up in your business. I guess that must be normal for them?”

“Wait, there are  _ more? _ ”

“Yeah, he’s got a family he talks about sometimes…”

“Mom! And d-d-Dad!” Someone pats his head indulgently.

Izumi leans close with a grin. “Got any hot sisters? Cousins?”

Ren frowns. “C-cousin! But she…cold! Like m-me.” By way of demonstration, he cups Izumi’s cheeks. He laughs, ducking out of his hold.

Abe nudges him. “Speaking of which, should we be getting him into the bath?” With a small cry, Ren twists, slinging an arm around his neck, hugging Tajima close, too. Abe splutters a startled noise and then pats his shoulder.

As they lift Ren again, Tajima beams at him. “He seems to like you guys!”

“Well, with stunning recommendations like ‘he’s mean’, how could he not?” Tajima shoves Izumi’s shoulder amidst laughter.

They get him stripped down and rinsed off (Ren is  _ fascinated _ by the shower head, and has to be admonished several times about being careful not to spray people) while Hanai fills the bath with lukewarm water. It’s an older wooden tub, though it’s been retrofitted with more modern fixtures at some point, but it’s large enough for a family and thus large enough for Ren to fit in it relatively comfortably, if not to afford much room for movement.

He pulls himself up to the edge when they finally decide he’s clean enough, peeking over the edge with a smile, then reaches out a hand to pat the surface of the water. He gasps, then laughs, dipping his fingers in.

“It’s not gonna be  _ too _ warm, is it?” Hanai eventually has to take Ren’s hands and drag him bodily over to the controls in order to get his attention long enough to show him how to work them. It’s a little dubious how much he understands. “Yuu, maybe you should stay with him a little while, make sure he’s okay…”

“Aww, but I’m tired!”

“Hey,  _ you’re _ the one who decided to do this! You wanna come back here and find your merboy’s cooked himself?”

“No!” Tajima crouches down beside him. “I’m just kidding. I’m gonna stay here with you a while, okay?” Ren nods, more because the situation seems to require it than because he understands, but Tajima seems satisfied.

The boys lift him into the bath, now all quite damp themselves, and watch him wriggling around happily, gills working.

Abe crosses his arms over his chest. “So, are we gonna take turns coming and feeding him? How often does he need to eat, anyway?”

Tajima turns to blink at him. “Oh, I wasn’t assuming you guys—”

“Yeah, but it’s obviously more than one person can handle, and you already brought us in to move him, so we might as well keep helping.” The other boys nod.

Hamada grins down at where Ren’s now submerged himself with a blissful expression. “Besides, he’s cool! I wanna watch him more…”

“ _ You _ just want him to suck up to you more.” Izumi wins himself a smack on the back of the head.

Finally, they all clear out, leaving him alone with Tajima, who watches him with a small smile. Ren peeks over the side of the tub at him, then reaches out to tug on his pants leg. “Y-y-Yuu! River in?”

He crouches down, leaning his arms on the side of the bath. “It’s not a river! Bath. It’s a ba-ath, okay?” He looks at the water for a moment, squinching his face up, then mashes his face onto his arms and whines, “I can’t! If I get in now, I’ll never wanna get out!” He looks up at Ren. “You get it, right? Not now, but later.”

Ren nods, pushing back in the water. He’s a little disappointed, but he knows he has to be patient. Tajima sighs and beckons him closer, then cups his face, pulling him in so their foreheads touch. “You’ll see more of me from now on, promise. You just gotta wait a little while.”

“Promise! Trust?” Ren nods, curling his fingers around Tajima’s wrists, then, after a moment, releasing them and cupping his face, too. His boy’s breath plays over his skin, cool in the warm air of the bath, and one hand slides to tangle in his hair, tipping his head so their noses brush. Ren smiles, feeling warm through with something more than the bath, and murmurs out, “Yuu...thank you.”

Tajima doesn’t respond for a long moment. Finally, he inhales deeply, shaking himself a little, and sits back, releasing him with a grin. “No problem! You just gotta make sure to stay alive now, okay?”

“Okay!” Ren breathes out the word like his whole body makes the promise.


End file.
